Horizon
by romancedon
Summary: He's faded, turned darker, with silver hairs weaving through coarse black, yet unruly as ever. His skin is shaded now like a shadow has rolled over golden sun, not lifelessly cold; but cooled, a refuge from summer heatwaves. Fuu turns fifteen again and drops warm sake to the floor, clay cups shattering. "Mugen?" Post-series Mugen/Fuu with side Fuu/Jin.


He's faded, turned darker, with silver hairs weaving through coarse black, yet unruly as ever. His skin is shaded now like a shadow has rolled over golden sun, not lifelessly cold; but cooled, a refuge from summer heatwaves. The ringlets in his skin used to be the color of wet stone, but have now dried up, dulled and chalky.

It's shocking, a man with the eternal rough boyishness of youth grew _old_. There is a limp in his step, mixed into his same swagger as he leans back on his hips, sword used as a cane to keep up appearances.

Fuu turns fifteen again and drops warm sake to the floor, clay cups shattering.

"_Mugen?_"

* * *

His eyes haven't changed - lined now with age, thin and stretched tight when he smiles like old leather - but bright as ever.

"Nice place you got here," he says, leaning back against the extra pillows he stole off of another seat. When his body can't roam his eyes do, which she notices as he gazes at the rafters. "When four-eyes told me about it-"

"You've been talking to Jin?" she asks as she slides him tea.

He sniffs and shrugs. "We pass each other sometimes."

"He told me he hasn't seen you in five years."

"That long? Huh," he keeps his eyes on the door to the back kitchen, grabbing his tea and downing the cup. His eyes go wide and he spits half of it down his shirt front, screaming.

"What are you -?!"

"It's fucking hot!" he screams, tongue lolling out of his mouth as his raised voice does that familiar, guttural roll at every _g_.

She regrets ever missing him as she rolls her eyes.

* * *

Five days pass and he's still in town. Loitering near the gambling halls, but Fuu can tell he never enters the brothels: he pays for his meals when he comes to her restaurant. Short changed, spitting about how he'll pay the damn price her lackluster food deserves, but coins still scatter the table.

She asks him what he's doing here, but he mumbles around blades of straw and brings up how _damn old you look - at least you got a nicer set of jugs now_.

And really, what does he expect after thirteen years? He leaves with his hand rubbing his head or cheek slapped red half the time, but only ever _half_.

Jin comes by once the second week has passed since Mugen's arrival, coin purse full, glasses skewed. He needs them now, and sits across from Fuu as she uses her good eyes and pinky fingernail to tighten the screws in place.

She can tell his eyes keep flicking to the front door, where outside, Mugen sits on a bench he stuck outside the shop.

"How long has he been here?" Jin asks. He takes a moment to find the black chopsticks that blend into the black tabletop, hand hovering with uncertainty, before Fuu slides them forward for him.

"Too damn long. I keep asking and asking but he won't tell me why he's here, and, you'd _think_ he would've grown half a brain in so many years. But no. Still the same idiot Mugen."

Jin picks at his fish and Fuu hardly expects a response.

He lifts his head.

"Did you see his leg?" he asks.

She shakes her head, suddenly intrigued.

"He was stabbed in the thigh four years ago."

Fuu gently places his glasses on the table, and Jin begins to eat.

* * *

She sees it one night with the restaurant staff, Jin, and Mugen tucked amongst a table well after closing time. They ply her with enough liquor to forget to tally how much money she loses each time she pours another glass, tears slipping from her eyes as Mugen has the room howling.

Thirteen years of silence compound in his voice, screaming at the top of his lungs as he mimics an old tax collector in some far away town. He stands on the table with - "And then the bastard turns around to hit some other bastard and" - his fingers hook into his waistband - "I pulled his pants."

Some yell, remark on Mugen's underwear, a pair of waitresses whistle - but Fuu stares at the waxy pink scar on his leg.

Mugen looks around with a smile to see everyone's reactions, settling on Fuu for last. His expression reels back and covers himself, and sits down as if nothing ever happened.

* * *

Mugen sits in the back corner of the restaurant as Fuu says goodbye to Jin. He bends to accommodate her arms around his neck for a quick hug, and with familiarity his hands slip extra money into her obi, while she pecks him on the cheek. The both scold each other in their own ways for their slight of hand.

"Mugen, aren't you going to say goodbye?" Fuu calls over her shoulder.

He lifts his head and raises his glass, nodding. "See y'around, four-eyes."

Jin raises his eyebrows and tips his head, before a small smile at Fuu, and departs.

Fuu leans against the entrance, watching until his back disappears among the swarm of the street, until -

"You never mentioned you were married."

"What?"

He stretched out his legs across the table, folding his arms and making a noise of distaste. "You and him."

"_What_? Me and Jin aren't -"

"- Sure."

"He spends half his time at the _brothel_, I can't _believe_ you -"

"Well, if you're not married, then you're way too old be so someone's wife now."

Fuu sputters, marching back into the restaurant, fists clenched at her sides. "You're one to talk, still pretending to be a samurai with that scarred leg of yours!"

The metal at the bottom of his geta sound dull as they slam against the table, where he stands and starts screaming, hands on his sword but never pulling it out. She knows it was the wrong thing to say, knows now at her age that apologies should follow, but Mugen makes her voice rise like he is the moon to her tide: he floods her common sense.

He storms out.

* * *

To her surprise, he doesn't disappear. He is snoring on his odd little bench outside the restaurant at dawn when she opens. He crouches there all day, glaring, scaring away customers as he chews his fingernails and spits into the street.

She wants to tell him to stop, but that means he might leave. She doesn't want to let go quite yet.

At closing time, he marches in. His limp is more pronounced, and the sword has become a cane as he looks around the room.

"What's this from?" he points with the tip of his sword at hatch marks on the support beams, the tables and benches, splintered wood fuzzy with age.

Fuu keeps cleaning her teapots. "Drunken fights."

"You need a bouncer," he declares, scratching his face, eyes narrowing in the distance. "I need a better bench."

He picks up one from the nearest table, slings it over his shoulder, and walks back outside with it. Fuu hears the hollow thump of wood against the ground as he kicks over the old bench, and places his new one down.

* * *

He keeps out more customers than ever before, and if it weren't for Jin's extra money, she would be worried about her finances. But she grows bored with an empty restaurant, and decides, finally, to go to him first.

It's fair, after all: he came to her, now she goes to him.

At closing time she brings a bottle of sake with her, draping down the curtain and falling into a seat on Mugen's bench. He tucks his legs away from her and snorts when she sips from the bottle, but he still takes it when she offers it to him.

They do this, watching the amber light shift from the dying sun into shadowy purple, replaced slowly with lanterns. She doesn't remember him ever being this calm, and here, finally, his age has caught up with him.

"Sometimes," she says.

"Hm?"

Fuu sighs, shoulders heaving. "I'm with Jin _sometimes_."

"Someti-_Really_?! You give me a bottle and tell me _now_, you-"

"Hush," is all she says, quiet, calm, a little tired.

It's the voice of a woman, the Fuu he hasn't quite met yet, and Mugen bites his tongue. Then, he relaxes back into his seat, deciding to quietly pout than explode.

"It's been a long time, but I'm still used to the both of you being around, instead of just one," she says.

She yawns and slides her head to his shoulder. He doesn't move beyond handing her the bottle, which she folds against her arm with a sigh. He faintly thinks - faintly, like something hazy on the horizon, a mirage he shouldn't latch onto - that they must look like an old married couple. Old, grizzled bastard out front, with a shrill-voiced, greedy woman inside.

"There's a room upstairs for you. Just remember to bathe and I won't kick you out."

* * *

**End Notes:** I recently started watching the series, and remembered I wrote this about a year ago. I've thought of how Jin returns to Fuu's life as well - don't hold out hope, but I might write that too.

I hope you enjoyed it!


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